


UTMV Stories and Ship Content

by xFireflyx



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (More Details in The Summaries), Brotherly Bonding, Cuddles, Except Dream, Fluff, I am so sorry my beautiful children, Imprisonment, In Which The Author Also Ships Cross With Many Characters, In Which The Author Ships Everyone With Nightmare, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Oh god how do tags work, SO MUCH FLUFF, Short Stories, Trauma, aaaa kinda, apparently, happy endings, i havent written dreammare in any shape or form yet, mkay i think i tagged all the characters, no im not doing this in order, oh stars theyre all traumatized, only as brothers, please help what are tags, sfw, um, utmv - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:33:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25820656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xFireflyx/pseuds/xFireflyx
Summary: A collaboration of all of my short stories written for the Undertale Multiverse fandom. There is much fluff, as the author of this fic has a very weak, soft heart. Since this is many stories in one, remember to read the notes on the individual chapters before reading. More details will be specified in the notes! My apologies for the shoddy summary!
Relationships: Cream - Relationship, Cross/Dream, Cross/Nightmare, Crossmare, Dark Cream, Epic/Dream, Error/Nightmare, Errormare, Ink/Dream, Nightmare/Blue - Relationship, Shattered!Dream/Cross, drink - Relationship, nightberry, outer/killer
Comments: 5
Kudos: 87





	1. Crossmare Cuddles

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Thank you so much for viewing my story! As stated in the summary, this is a collection of all my short stories for UTMV! I haven't got a lot, I don't think, but I hope you enjoy the stories!
> 
> [Chapter Details: Cross looks after Nightmare, since Nightmare has not gotten rest for far too long. Basically just Nightmare having nightmares and Cross being his emotional support teddy bear. Warnings: None that I can think of.]

It had been a long, restless week for the Bad Sanses, and no-one was feeling that exhaustion more than their irritable leader. Dream had been pushing back at them hard, undoing much of their hard work as he spread positivity through the Multiverse. In order to keep any of their efforts from being unraveled, they had to fight almost nonstop for days. The gang was smart enough to sleep in shifts so that someone would be awake to alert the others of the Star Sanses’ movements. 

Nightmare, however, had not slept for the entire week- and it showed. He was practically glued to his coffee mug, seeming to live dependently on the caffeine-laced liquid. His tentacles, which usually twirled about in the air behind him energetically, now swayed drowsily near the ground like heavy branches of a decaying oak tree. Now and then, he would drop his head into his hand and mutter something, clearly not paying any attention to the newspaper he had in front of him. 

Cross frowned at him from the other side of the breakfast table, uninterested in the omelet that Horror had served him. When was the last time the fool had even taken a nap? It had to have been before this mini-war had begun. Just in thinking about it, he felt his face pull into a deeper frown. They couldn’t have him passing out in the middle of a battle. Despite all of the arguments he had gotten into with his boss, he was genuinely concerned for him. And coffee _certainly_ was no substitute for a night of rest. 

He pushed his chair back suddenly, walking to his boss’ side. “Put that down and get up,” He ordered, receiving a glare almost immediately. Something utterly incoherent slipped out of Nightmare’s mouth, then he blinked and tried again. 

“...’s not your job to tell me what to do,” He spat, wobbling. Cross guided his hand down and pushed the newspaper onto the table, then he worked the mug out of Nightmare’s clawed fingers. His grumbles of protest were half-hearted and went unobserved. 

“You need sleep, Night,” Cross told him, waiting for the sulking Lord of Negativity to look up at him. When he did, he had the expression of an angry child. “Don’t give me that look. You’re exhausted, and no one in this damned castle is helping you. Just… get up.” He slipped one of his arms around the goopy mess of a being, easing him to his feet. 

Nightmare sighed and draped an arm across the knight’s shoulders, still scowling. “I can walk on my own,” He argued, earning himself a chuckle in response. 

“No you can’t, idiot. Look, you’re tripping over your own feet.” Cross was correct, the sleep-deprived leader hardly lifted his feet with each step. If it weren’t for Cross, he likely would’ve tread upon his own tentacles and fell face-flat on the ground. They walked like this until they got to Nightmare’s room, which was at the end of a long, dark corridor. Cross knew Nightmare could see in the dark, but he sometimes wondered if it would be such a crime to light some torches in the halls- at least for the convenience of the rest of the gang. 

The room was a mess. Books and clothes were everywhere, loose papers were scattered across the floor, and black puddles coated almost every surface- even the walls. Fortunately enough, there wasn’t a lot that he had to brush off of the bed. He helped Nightmare sit down, and the Lord of Negativity fell back gratefully into his pillows. 

“There you go. You don’t have to make this so difficult,” Cross told him in a low voice, pulling his blankets over him. Nightmare scowled back, but he seemed a lot less irritable. 

“Mmn, whatever.” He snuggled his head into the pillows, then tensed. His eye flickered up to Cross, a look of panic entering his gaze as the knight made his way back to the door. “Don’t go.” 

Cross stopped, turning to look at him in surprise. He saw a strange vulnerability in the eye of his boss, and it took him a second to process the statement. Stay. Why did he need Cross’ company? Now that he thought of it, Nightmare had always been reluctant to get any rest. There was probably a good reason for this, but he didn’t want to push him for answers. Instead, he nodded and pushed the door shut halfway, sitting on the floor since there were no chairs in the room. 

Nightmare visibly relaxed, his eye shutting in contentment. Not long after, his breathing slowed and his face softened. How he could look so peaceful in his sleep was a mystery. Cross quietly stood and began to clean the room, feeling like he should keep himself busy. He stacked all of the loose papers neatly on the decluttered desk and slipped all of the books back onto the bookshelves. Uncertainly, he bunched up all of the clothes and tossed them on the floor in Nightmare’s walk-in closet. With a sigh, he supposed the room was now at the very least clean enough to allow one to walk about freely. 

He turned back, noticing Nightmare was twisting about in his sleep. He was muttering something under his breath, face twitching into a dreadful frown. Cross only found it odd when he whimpered, so quiet it could have been his imagination. Was he… having a nightmare? Cross should have known this was why he refused to sleep. After all, his very name suggested that he wasn’t one to have healthy dreams. 

Moving closer to his bedside, Cross reached out to comfort him uneasily. He didn’t sign up for this… But he had gotten awfully close to the gang members, and he considered them to be his family. He felt sympathy for Nightmare, who had been through so much and lived so many years in a state of torment and pain. He was bad at hiding it from the people he opened up his castle to. Cross could tell that he needed someone to help him through his problems, and although he didn’t like the idea of being a soft, sensitive person, maybe that was what he must become to help Nightmare. 

The sleeping leader flinched at his touch, then seemed to realize he wasn’t trying to harm him. Rather suddenly, a tentacle reached out and curled around Cross, tugging him up onto the bed next to Nightmare. He gasped in surprise, especially when the creature of negativity and darkness wrapped his arms around him. The hug was tight, desperate to keep him from leaving. 

“It’s alright,” He whispered after a minute of surprise. Cross rubbed his arms softly, trying to ease his tension. “I’m not going to leave you.” 

Nightmare snuggled into his jacket, his frown softening at the edges. Whatever Cross had done seemed to have calmed him, and once again he was sleeping peacefully. “Geez, you are a mess,” He chuckled quietly, feeling his own tension fade despite being in a strangle-hold by both of Nightmare’s arms and a tentacle. “No wonder you’re so irritable all of the time.” 

Cross felt a creeping feeling of sadness take hold of his mind. He had spoken to Dream before about their past, curious to find a way to bring some amount of peace to the goopy skeleton. Didn’t he say that they had been inseparable when they were younger? He realized that Nightmare was likely extremely lonely, now that he had no one to come to when he was hurting. This strange desire to have someone close to him must have originated from the loss of his brother. 

When he tried to pull away, feeling a bit uncomfortable, Nightmare sobbed in his sleep and held him back with another tentacle. Cross felt something inside him twist at that sad, pained noise. “I’m sorry, Night. I’m here. I’m not going to leave you. Not like he did.” He sank into the odd, somewhat sticky hug, wrapping his own arm around Nightmare’s. 

He would likely get stabbed when Nightmare woke up, but that was alright. Cross found that he didn’t mind- he was going to be here and help Night, no matter what it took. Besides, he kind of enjoyed the attention. They remained together for the rest of the day, their breathing matching as the knight found himself dozing off, incredibly safe and warm in the arms of the only person that had welcomed him in without hesitation. 


	2. Drink, but They Both Need More Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ink and Dream bought a house, Ink is just really excited, and their neighbors are in for a lot of adventures they did NOT sign up for.
> 
> Warnings: None that I can think of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just a quick notice: if, in chapters that I do not label with warnings, there is EVER any content that triggers you, PLEASE PLEASE tell me! I will edit the warnings and add a tag. Most of these stories are pretty light, I believe, but don't hesitate to reach out to me- no matter what the trigger is! 
> 
> Thank you, I hope you enjoy the story!

Ink tapped his chin as he stared at the walls of the empty bedroom, blank white and undecorated. It was an empty canvas just _begging_ to be painted! If he listened closely enough, he could almost hear the wall whispering to him, speaking of all the wonderful things he could create upon its face. _Or maybe that’s just the sleep deprivation and energy drinks talking…_ Most likely. He had been so excited the night before, he had forgotten that he was supposed to be sleeping. Today, they finally got the keys to their new home! It was theirs now, free to decorate and live in! How Dream had been able to sleep at all amazed him. This was the most exciting day since… well, he couldn’t remember! So that meant this was the most exciting day in his life! 

“You aren’t painting the walls in there, are you…?” Dream called from the kitchen, the clatter of dishes muffling his voice. Ink perked up and spun to face the door. 

“Not yet! I have so many ideas, though! Wait, this wall needs a window…” 

Dream sighed, leaving his task of unpacking dishes to peek into the room. “I think that the two windows are enough, Ink. Please, let’s not start another long, unnecessary renovation…” 

But it wasn’t unnecessary! It would brighten the room so much more- especially if the window was facing east! Then they could watch the sunrise from bed, too… And if the room was in the colors of the sunrise, it would be even better! The thought made him bounce from foot to foot, but one look at Dream’s face told him that this was an argument for later. Ink had a lot of changes he already wanted to make to the house. Maybe setting this one thing aside wouldn’t be _terrible_. Though… he wasn’t going to let himself forget. Reaching for his scarf, he quickly scribbled a note about the window, then smiled at Dream reassuringly. “Later, then?” 

“Sure, maybe after you finish all of the other projects you’ve started,” Dream agreed, smiling as he joined Ink in the empty room. Their room. It might not be special now, but it was their own. That was all it needed to be something amazing. 

Ink frowned, knowing he was forgetting something. “Oh! Come here, I wanna show you something!” He bounded into the bathroom excitedly, the ends of his scarf almost slapping Dream in the face. 

The guardian of positivity smiled, though it was a tired and helpless smile. He and Ink had been living together long enough for him to know when to simply let Ink do his thing. Knowing him, he probably didn’t get enough sleep, and he was running off of extra doses of paint. _Well, at least now we have more space for him to run around and burn off the excess emotions._ In the studio apartment they had been sharing, it was so small that Dream often relied on movies, blank canvases, and lots of walks up and down the stairs to help Ink come down from his hyper state. _At least I know he is really excited about this…_ Still. It was no excuse for using paints as a replacement for sleep. 

When he came into the bathroom that was adjoined to the master bedroom, he found the artist perched carefully on the bathroom counter. “What is it you want to show me…?” Dream asked, confused. Did this have something to do with the bathroom, or did it have something to do with Ink? 

His eyes shifted patterns a few times, then he smiled and tapped his vials. “I was sitting here, right? And I was trying to decide where to put the extra paints. I figured I might put in a shelf for them, or maybe a cabinet. It got me thinking: where would I put a cabinet in here?” He hopped up, gesturing to the mirror, which took up most of the wall behind them. “Unless I blocked that, it wouldn't fit there.” 

Dream raised a brow at him, confused. “Why not use one of the cabinets already in here?” 

Ink laughed like it was the dumbest question he had ever heard. “Those cabinets are too low! If it isn’t at eye level, I’ll forget where I put them.” He moved past the shower and in front of the toilet. “I could build one here, but,” he pointed to the narrow, rectangular window above the toilet, “it would block that.” 

Why did this seem to be roaming down a rabbit trail Dream felt he might regret later for following? 

Ink shook his head, looking over his shoulder at his partner. “The lights in here are already pretty bright, so I thought, ‘maybe we don't need this window’. But how could I know that? Maybe there was a reason it was put here!” He stood on the rim of the toilet, despite Dream’s immediate urging for him to get down. He peeked out the window, and then waved a hand behind him. “It looks right into our neighbor’s backyard! They have some _weird_ stuff back there! But they also have a pool, so maybe we should try to befriend them-” 

His foot slipped, just as Dream had feared it would. Only, instead of falling off, Ink caught himself and got away with no more than a light smack of his head to the wall. “Ink, are you okay?!” Dream asked, rushing over to offer him a hand. 

The artist laughed, waving away his concern. _Dream is always so worried I’m going to hurt myself. I have everything under control!_ Maybe not _everything,_ but Ink was pretty good at ensuring that his shenanigans didn’t cause too much trouble. “I’m fine! Just…” He was stuck. He tried pulling his leg out of the toilet bowl, but he almost slipped and smacked his head into the wall again. 

“Ink… did you seriously just get your foot stuck in the toilet?” Dream didn’t look mad, just disappointed. Ink was trying to figure out why he had ever expected better from him. 

“Maybe,” he giggled, wiggling his toes in the water with a sheepish grin. “Help?” 

Dream observed him in his predicament before shaking his head, a mischievous smile on his face. “No, I don’t think I will.” He purposefully turned and left the bathroom, leaving his partner stuck in a very uncomfortable position. 

“Wait, no…! Dreeaaam… Please don’t leave me!” He whined, fighting to free his foot from its porcelain snare. To his surprise, Dream returned not long after he left, only… 

He snapped a picture just as Ink’s face exploded with color. “Aww… You look so embarrassed!” Dream smiled, holding up the photo he had taken. “This is definitely going in the scrapbook!” Right, Dream had been making a scrapbook for the two of them. He started doing so after Ink joked about showing his baby pictures to their grandchildren. Now Dream was determined to have a full album of photos on hand to counter any photos of himself that Ink might have stashed away. 

“Noooo, Dream…!” Ink covered his face, which was now covered in a blush of every hue in the rainbow. When he at last came to accept he wouldn’t be able to convince Dream to get rid of the picture, his shoulders sagged and he pouted. “Please help me.” 

Dream thought for a moment, looking him over a few times, then shrugged. “Okay, okay, I’ll help you. I think this has served as a good reminder not to stand on the toilet, though.” He wrapped his arms around Ink’s waist and- with strength that put Ink’s pathetic floundering to shame- easily freed his foot. He gently set him down on the linoleum, laughter in his bright, sunny eyes. 

“Thank you,” Ink stated, trying to hold tight to what little dignity he had left. He rubbed at his cheek, avoiding meeting Dream’s amused gaze. “Wanna go meet the neighbors?” 

“Sure, but only if you promise to swim in the _pool_ from now on.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! Once again, if you have any suggestions or constructive critisism, do let me know in the comments. Thank you! And if you have not drank any water recently, please remember to do so! Stay hydrated, lovely stars! <3


	3. (Dark Cream) Dream Needs a Band-Aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream and Shatter have to share control over their body, and Dream finally has control again. Cross is confused but protective, and Nightmare still wants Shatter dead.
> 
> Warnings: Blood and injury (not really graphic)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I don't quite know how to add warnings for this chapter, so if you have any other warnings you think may fit, let me know! I hope you enjoy the story! ^^

There was a greatly unsettling absence of light, and such a thing is not good for a spirit of positivity. Darkness, but in more ways than one. Where was the joy? The excitement? Where was the happiness and love that drove him forward through the hardest of times? The shadows encasing him sparked a sense of familiarity, which brought upon him a wave of panicked realization. _Darkness. Negativity. It’s everywhere…! I can’t reach him-_

So very slowly, Dream opened his eyes, a heavy fog locked within his mind. His thoughts were lost in this blanket of oppressive mist, wandering within the muddy bog of his mind. _Where… what happened?_ From what he could tell, he was in a stormy world with skies in a mind-numbing shade of gray. He was in a quiet town, surrounded by the droning noise of rain slapping against concrete. And, from what he could tell, there had been some kind of fight. Rubble of damaged buildings was scattered across the street, and street lamps had somehow found themselves lodged in the sides of buildings like javelins. 

The slap of boots against wet stone called for Dream’s attention. He turned, only to be winded by the sight of… of _him._ He gawked and gasped for a moment, forgetting entirely of how to breathe. _N-no, this is just… this is just some weird daydream. I’m not awake, I’m not seeing…_

But it was most certainly his brother. He would never forget his own twin. 

Nightmare glared down at him severely, his violet eyes filled with anger and pain. His hand shook, but he clutched his summoned scythe firmly in front of him. “Stop it. Just… _stop._ I’m sick of your games, Shatter. This… _stupid_ act isn’t going to save you.” 

Dream blinked, then shuffled back, conflicted. “...Brother…? Y-you’re… I don’t understand! Who is Shatter? I… don’t understand… but I’m so happy to see you again!” The real Nightmare. The brother he had always loved, not some sick shade that mocked him by taking Nightmare’s form. 

But his brother was not deterred. In fact, his gaze became even darker. “Stop lying! You just want me to fall for some illusion so you can control me. Isn’t that what you always do? Pretend to be the ‘merciful’ one? To offer others a chance at happiness, only to snatch it away from them? I’m _not falling for it_. So you can stop pretending that you and I are brothers. My brother died long ago. Stop mocking his death.” 

Why… why did that hurt so… “N-Night….? We.. we are brothers!” Tears burned at the corners of Dream’s sockets, stinging at cuts he wasn’t aware that he had. “I would never control you! I just want you to be happy! Please, it’s all I ever wanted for you…” He attempted to sit up, only to gasp at the flash of pain that shot through the flank of his ribs. Dream winced, his hand pressing against what was an obvious wound. _We were fighting… why are we fighting? Nightmare isn’t corrupted anymore, so why…_

His brother stared down at him in disgust, raising his scythe a bit higher. “Sure, you want me to be happy, but on your terms. You want me to be happy like I _used_ to be: sick and cruel joy, derived from the pain of others. But I’m not that person anymore, and you know it. I’m not going to play this game anymore. It’s over, Shatter.” 

Something thicker than tears began to spill from Dream’s left eye, leaving a weird sensation akin to the burn of acid on his cuts. It took no more than a second for the corresponding eyelight to flicker out, though he could still feel tears slipping down from the socket. “I-I’m not sure who you’re talking about… B-but, I n-never would force happiness upon you. I love you, Nightmare. P-please. Just… rem-member that, OK?” He tried to smile, but it twisted into a grimace really fast. Alright, that wound was getting worse fast. Moving his hand to his face, he was surprised to find that his glove was entirely stained with blood, turning the gold fabric into a deep shade of crimson. The removed pressure on his side made him extremely dizzy. 

Nightmare stared down at his soaking wet brother, his gaze softening to portray minimal levels of sorrow. “I never forgot my _brother’s_ love. Goodbye, Shatter. See you in hell.” He raised his scythe over his head, aiming a fatal blow at Dream’s chest. Dream, too stunned and immobilized by pain, reacted with little more than a whimper and a drop of his head. 

The sharp noise of steel clashing against steel echoed through the city, breaking the quiet monotony of the rain. Something- or someone- sheltered him from the falling droplets of water, prompting him to look up once more. Was that….? 

“I thought you were better than this, Nightmare!” The former royal guard shouted, holding back Nightmare’s scythe with his own blade. 

“Cross! Can’t you see that he’s just using you? That isn’t _Dream!_ He’s long dead!” Nightmare shouted, shooting a glare at the wounded spirit. “Shatter is just taking his form to torment you!” 

Cross forced him back, planted defensively over Dream. “I don’t care if it is or isn’t the Dream that I knew. I care about him, and I believe he can be saved. How blind are you?! You got a second chance! Why can’t Shatter have the same opportunity?” He was hardly pushed back an inch at Nightmare’s next attack, blocking the swing with the ease of a highly skilled warrior. 

Dream curled onto his side, fearing that he might choke and drown on the tears building on his face. “-don’t f-fight…” He didn’t remember Cross feeling this way toward him. He didn’t remember anything but an awkward, quiet knight working for his corrupted brother. They had interacted very few times out of battle, and that had usually been to discuss temporary cease-fires. He wouldn’t deny that he had always had an interest in Cross, but it was usually curiosity and nothing more. 

Although he refused to give Nightmare the chance to strike him while distracted, Cross softened his expression at the voice of the one he most loved. “Shatter, now really isn’t the time for games, is it? You’re wounded. _And_ ill. What were you thinking, challenging Nightmare in this state?” 

Dream furrowed his browbones, growing more and more confused. Ill? He challenged Nightmare? “I don’t understand! You both speak of games, but I don’t get it! _Who is Shatter?!_ By the stars, I need answers!” Was this some weirdly elaborate trick to confuse him? Was Nightmare still corrupted, and he was just casting some illusion to appear as he once was? Though his aura felt twisted and broken, he could sense that his brother was in no way as negative as he once was. Nightmare’s aura was much less corrupted now, from what he could tell. Dream wasn’t sure how he knew this, but he could _feel_ a difference. 

Cross sprang forward, driving Nightmare back further with a few viscous swipes of his blade. He kept himself between the brothers, body tense and prepared for Nightmare’s next move. “Shatter…?” He ducked back, avoiding being sliced in half by Nightmare’s scythe. Despite facing an opponent equally as powerful as him, Nightmare continued to glare venom at his brother, silently expressing who he wished to be dicing to pieces. 

Dream swiped at the messy substance on his face, disliking the painful sting it was leaving behind. Holding up his hand, he was drawn further into a confused haze. “Slime…? C-Cross, what happened?” 

The knight skid aside, panting for breath and shaking rain from his body. “Nightmare- stop. He’s- something’s wrong.” Despite his warning, the opposing fighter launched forward, striking blow after blow in attempts to break Cross’ guard. As the scythe was drawn back once more for another attack, Cross seemed to vanish entirely, the only evidence of his presence being crackling glitches and “X”s left behind. Just as quickly as he disappeared, he crackled back into being next to Dream, his blade desummoned. Nightmare was unprepared for the sudden disappearance of his target, and he awkwardly fought to regain balance and keep from lodging his scythe into the street. 

Cross stooped over him and gently pulled him into his arms, careful to keep from wounding his side any further. Somehow, the touch felt familiar. Dream relaxed in his arms, comforted by the feeling of something solid within the muddy haze he was struggling in. “I’m not sure what’s wrong, Shatter… or Dream. But I’m gonna get you somewhere safe, alright?” 

Dream hummed in acknowledgement, flinching at the furious shout of his brother. “Please, Cross! Don’t do this! As long as he lives, Dream’s _murderer_ goes free! Dream is long gone, and Shatter only wants to hurt you! _Please_ , let go of him. Let him go, so I can end this chaos!” Anger blended with pain and frustration within his voice, causing more tears to slip down Dream’s face. _I’m not dead… Brother, I’m right here…!_ But he refused to believe this. Nightmare seemed to believe with all his might that Dream was gone, even when staring him right in the eyes. 

Cross opened a portal behind them, then stepped back through it slowly. “I hope you open your eyes someday, Nightmare, and see the truth. Seeya around.” The portal snapped shut, leaving the two in a sudden quiet only broken by Dream’s sniffling. 

It was dark and warm in this new location, but everything was blurry. Dream couldn’t see through the tears, the raindrops, and the glaze of pain that blinded his eye. “‘M sorry…” He whispered, not entirely certain of what he was apologizing for. It didn’t matter, did it? He had to be the reason any of this had happened. 

Cross carried him across the room, setting him down carefully on a comfortable surface- a couch? “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m gonna get the first aid kit, alright? I’ll be right back.” The knight smiled patiently, then disappeared from his view. Dream wanted to call him back- he didn’t want to be alone- but Cross said he would come back. It was okay. 

And he did. It was no more than a minute before he returned, kneeling next to Dream on the floor beside the couch. “I have to remove your shirt to clean your wound, is that alright?” Cross asked, his tone quieter than normal. Dream looked at him curiously, noting the worried expression on the knight’s face. 

“Mhm. I’m just confused. Why are you helping me…? I thought we were enemies…” Dream shifted his arms to make it easier for his bloody clothing to be removed. He wasn’t sure why, but it warmed him to see how gently Cross handled his cape, folding it and setting it aside on the floor. 

“You… really aren’t just playing a game? Be honest, what do you last remember?” Cross asked, hands hovering anxiously over Dream. 

What… what did he last remember? “I don’t… Wait, I think I remember telling Ink and Blue that I needed time away from work. I don’t remember why, though…” Dream shuffled back so he could sit up, wincing at the blistering pain that shot up his ribs. Cross was already a step ahead of him, reaching for a pillow to help prop him up. 

“That was… a long time ago. When you and I started meeting outside of battle,” Cross explained, slipping Dream’s shirt over his head. Dream hissed at the sting of air on his bleeding side, his eye glazing further. 

“S-so we somehow befriended each other…?” Dream wheezed, holding his side again as he tried to distract himself from the agony. “I still- ksss!- don’t understand… Wh-what happened to Nightmare? And why is he so angry at me?” 

Cross moved his hand away to press a towel to his side, unable to look away from the ugly gash running across the entire length of his ribs. “We… were really close. But you were still upset about Nightmare. I didn’t realize that you pushed me away at the time because you were _guilty_. If I had known…” He paused, his gaze frozen on the blood seeping through the towel. He shook his head, breathing out a sigh. “Sorry, I’m supposed to stop blaming myself. How bad is the pain?” 

Dream almost forgot about the pain for a moment. The way Cross spoke of their friendship… Gulping down whatever… _that_ emotion was, Dream focused on the gash that demanded urgent attention. “Uh, it’s… pretty bad. Feels like one of my ribs were cut straight through.” It didn’t appear to be, but there was too much blood to be fully certain it was still intact. Cross frowned at the wound, then reached back into the box he had set on the floor next to him. 

“I can’t put any healing balm on it with so much blood flow, so I’m going to wrap it to stop the bleeding for now.” Cross gently moved the towel away, not seeming to mind that it dripped deep red stains onto the couch as he did. He carefully began to wind a roll of bandages around Dream’s injured ribs, pulling it tight enough to hold the bones stable, but loose enough that it didn’t hurt too much. 

It was becoming harder for Dream to stay awake. His head felt light and dizzy, and the pain from his side made his consciousness desire to flee into sweet, painless darkness. “Cross… you’re not telling me what happened. I n-need to know. Please, I’m tired…” 

Cross tucked the end of the bandage and put away the roll, his gaze sympathetic. “Dream, you were so guilt-ridden for Nightmare, you… corrupted yourself. You ate an apple of negativity- how you got it, I still don’t know. After that, Nightmare was so messed up over the fact that you were corrupted, he… uncorrupted? Degooped?” He scratched the back of his head with his clean hand. “I don’t know. But you… lost yourself. You were a new person, just like Nightmare. That’s who he was talking about. Shatter- or Shattered Dream, which is what you started going by. You seemed to find it entertaining.” 

Dream reached for his goopy eye again, his breath stilling as the fog in his head attempted to clear. “I… o-oh stars… C-Cross.. I’m sorry-!” 

Cross leaned forward, gently brushing away the fresh tears that had begun spilling down Dream’s cheekbones. “Shh. You don’t have to apologize. You just wanted to help Nightmare.” 

“But..! I must have hurt him… and my friends! And you…” Dream looked up at him, their eyes meeting. “I can’t imagine how hard it has been, to watch me hurt others. To stand by my side even though I couldn’t see through my own darkness.” 

Cross rubbed his thumbs in slow circles beneath Dream’s eyes, a small, shy smile on his face. “It was always hard, even when you were _you_. But that was because I hated to see you hurting. Shatter… he liked to pretend he was fine. I know he isn’t. You pretend you’re fine too. But I will never leave you because you made a mistake. I… care about you, more than you know.” 

From the strong positive emotions swirling around the room, Dream almost _did_ know. He swallowed the swell of emotions mounting within him, then blinked sleepily. The haze was getting _intense_. “Cross, I don’t think…” He drooped against Cross, struggling against the spell of dizzy exhaustion. “Shatter is… still around. I’m… I’m a little scared. I don’t want to forget again…” 

Cross awkwardly shifted his arms around the wounded spirit, settling into a warm hug that he wouldn’t deny sparked a flutter of nervous glee. “It’s okay. I’m not going to leave you. Or Shatter. I’m here for both of you.” It helped Dream to think of Shatter as someone else. He was grateful that Cross was creating that distance between the two. 

“Thank you...I’m sorry, Cross-” 

“Don’t be sorry!” Cross reassured him, pulling back to stare him in the eyes. 

Dream frowned, his fingers restlessly toying with the bandages around his ribs. “No, I… I’m sorry that I don’t remember. I… I know there was something between us, but now I…” He didn’t remember, and he hated it! What had happened between them? What made Cross… feel towards him? Dream wanted to feel something back, but he just…! “I wish I knew…” 

Cross sat back on his knees, tilting his head as he thought. “We… could start over. Get to know each other again?” He looked hopeful, as though expecting that Dream wasn’t already thrilled by the idea. 

“That would be great, but…” Stars, he was so tired. Dream forced his eye to stay open, refusing to give in just yet. “I don’t have a great perception of time, but I know it’s been awhile since this… corruption. Shatter has been in control for so long, I don’t think I’m really _me_ anymore. When will we have the time…?” What if he never had control again? What if this was a one time thing? 

“I’ll talk to Shatter about it, then. There has to be some reason he lost- or gave you- control. He might be stubborn and dismissive about it, but he can’t ignore that you are still alive. And I’m not going to give him a break until he talks to me,” Cross assured him, standing to pull a blanket down from the back of the couch over Dream. 

So warm… Blinking sleepily, Dream settled back against the pillow he was given and sighed. “Alright. I trust you.” He wasn’t sure why he did. He didn’t really care, though. Being looked after so tenderly, knowing that someone still cared for him even after becoming corrupted… it was comforting, and that sense of safety made it easier for him to relax and let go. Cross wasn’t going to give up on him. With that in mind, he found it easier to accept Shatter as a part of himself. _I swear to the Creators beyond, if you hurt Cross, I am going to make your arms numb for two months straight,_ Dream thought spitefully, wondering if he actually had that power. 

But then Cross was next to him again, holding his hand and grounding him for a moment more. “I’m glad you’re alive,” Cross whispered, tugging the blanket over his shoulders. 

“I’m glad I’m alive, too,” Dream chuckled, though there was some part of him that wanted to argue with this statement. He was happy he was alive, but he wasn’t happy that it was in _this_ way. _Sleep,_ a voice within him urged. _We will figure this out later._

“Mmn. I’m pretty sure Shatter’s telling me to sleep. Promise you won’t let him do anything stupid while we’re wounded?” Dream murmured, his hand twitching a little tighter around Cross’ fingers. 

“I promise,” Cross laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Dream felt a flutter of warmth pass through him at the small gesture, but he was too tired to comment. _Sleep, dammit, or I’m-_

_Alright, OK. I’m sleeping!_ Dream internally argued, smiling as he began to drift into darkness. _Hopefully not forever?..._

He was already out when the voice responded quietly, _No, not forever._ Reaching out with a lethargic tentacle formed under his control, Shatter tugged his knight closer, though Cross could have easily pulled away from his weak hold. “....thank you, Cross.” For caring about _him_ , not just Dream. For protecting him. For not giving up or giving in to any of the torment Shatter had forced him to suffer through. Admittedly… Shatter wanted him around. No- he needed him. Dream returning had helped him acknowledge this. He needed Cross, and had foolishly let himself care back. _Well, he’s my idiot now. Mine and… and Dream’s._ There was no escaping this reality of his. Dream couldn’t be erased, nor could his annoying positive influence. 

An annoyingly warm, cloud soft feeling that wasn’t his own trickled into his aura. “Of course. No need to thank me, Sha-” 

Shatter silenced him with a kiss, then opened his eye to give Cross a sly smile. “Goodnight, love.” He curled into the blankets, falling asleep almost on command. Cross was left in flustered silence, gaping at the goopy jerk he had fallen in love with. 

After a moment recovering, Cross sat back and smiled, shaking his head. “Goodnight, Sunshade.” He leaned against the couch, staring off at the ceiling as he thought through his complex emotions. Ever the loyal guard, not once did he leave Shatter’s side. And even as he began to doze off, their hands never pulled away from each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! All feedback is appreciated and encouraged, so please do let me know what you think or if there is any way I can improve the story! Thank you! Have a wonderful day, lovely reader!


	4. Ink and Flowey are Soulless Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flowey makes a friend???
> 
> Warnings: none that I can think of (Flowey is Flowey).

It was an okay day outside. Birds were quietly singing as snow fell around the pine forest, coating the world in a soft layer of icy fluff. Everything seemed muffled and muted in the light storm, although there was no silencing the boisterous and loud voice that echoed across the frosted hills. 

Hidden alone in the shady forest, a large golden flower basked in what silence he was allowed. His petals trembled in the wind, but he was not cold. Flowey wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he was really… _concerned_ with how this timeline was going. Why was Frisk still here? Why was the child refusing to end the timeline in any way? They hadn’t hurt anyone, but every time he tried to speak with them, they outright ignored him. 

“They’re just a stupid kid,” He muttered to himself, watching a snowflake drift to the ground lazily. “I don’t really care if they want to be rude. They can go be friends with everyone but me, see if I care!” 

He flopped back into the snow, shutting his eyes more out of boredom than anything else. He just wanted this timeline to end so he could have his memories of this whole thing end. At least no one had come to bug him in awhile. Papyrus was so distracted with his “new” human friend, he seemed to have forgotten about Flowey. The energetic skeleton was determined to help Undyne and Frisk bond, encourage Alphys to feel better about herself, and eliminate Sans’ ketchup-drinking habit, he was too busy to come looking for the golden flower that he once considered a friend. 

Flowey was trying not to care. There had been lots of timelines where he never interacted with anyone, where they all hated him, and where he did nothing but torture everyone. He was soulless and felt no remorse for doing all of those things. So why did he hate being left alone for so long? Why did he feel like ripping himself apart, if only to draw their attention? 

There was a strange sloshing noise in front of him, drawing himself out of his mind. A dark puddle stained the snow in a nearby secluded meadow, somehow remaining slick and unfrozen on top of the ice crystals. He practically yelped when a sticky figure emerged from the puddle, shaking droplets of the liquid off of themself like a dog shakes water from its fur. The black substance slipped down from their body, revealing a skeleton that looked an awful lot like Sans. Flowey scowled, growing confused- yet, very, _very_ interested. This “Sans” wore a white shirt with a brown jacket overtop of it, what seemed to be long brown pants, and a sash with brightly colored vials strapped to it. He was barefoot, oddly enough, and had an idiotic air to him. Maybe that was just because of the clunky paintbrush he had strapped to his back- it seemed like a very unconventional weapon, and it probably wasn’t easy to use for normal painting. 

Mismatched, colorful eyelights scanned the area before falling on the golden flower. He looked surprised, as if he didn’t want to be seen. “Oh! Hello there!” 

Flowey grimaced as he approached, but he quickly disguised his distaste with a blank smile.”Howdy friend! I’m Flowey! I’ve never seen you around here before! You must be new here!” 

The skeleton nodded, a dumb grin on his face. “I am new here! I didn’t mean for anyone to see me, but I guess it’s too late for that.” He shrugged sheepishly, his eyelights shifting colors and shapes. Well that was weird. 

“Aw, that’s okay, friend! I won’t tell anyone! I mean, what are pals for? In fact, I can help you out!” He watched as the skeleton smiled brighter, thoroughly tricked by Flowey’s show of kindness. 

“How do you mean?” 

He must be pretty stupid if he was falling for this. He was a monster, right? Monsters were usually wary to accept such open kindness from complete strangers. Flowey went with it, though. Maybe this guy hit his head or something. “You see, we monsters have these things called SOULs. You’re a smart guy, right? I’m sure you already knew that.” Flowey smiled politely, leaning a little closer. “But I know all the secrets to SOULs! You see, a monster’s SOUL is the very culmi...na...tion……?” 

He had reached a vine forward while he was talking, meaning to summon the monster’s soul. But… nothing happened? Flowey felt his smile slip away, growing more confused by the second. 

The skeleton tilted his head, a small laugh escaping his stupid face. “Pfffahahah! Heh… sorry Flowey! I guess I never introduced myself! My name is Ink- Ink Sans, to be clear. I don’t have a soul!” 

Flowey stared at him, disgusted. “Excuse me, what?! So… _what_??? You’re trashbag, but colorful and emotionless?!” How the hell did this guy even exist? Firstly, he was Sans- but a really _off_ version of him? Secondly, _monsters need souls to live_. 

Ink scratched at the back of his skull, smiling apologetically. “Ahh, kind of? How do I explain… I’m from a different world…?” 

“That’s no excuse, idiot! How are you _alive_?!” Flowey dropped his friendly act like a second skin, magical pellets circling the weird monster before him. Ink seemed unthreatened by his act of violence. 

“How are you alive?” He countered, quirking a browbone at him. “After all, you have no soul either.” 

How did he know that??? Who did this guy think he was, anyway? He might be worse than Sans, which was saying a lot. “Determination! I am alive because of determination!” 

Ink plopped into the snow in front of him, seeming entertained. “I’m alive because of the determination of someone else,” He explained. “It’s a lot more complicated than that, but I don’t think you would understand.” 

Flowey was insulted. He bared his fangs at the idiot, hoping he looked scarier than he felt. “I have reset this world thousands of times! Don’t tell me what I can and can’t understand!” They sat for a moment, sizing each other up, before the Sans variant chuckled at him. 

“Alright, but I warned you.” He proceeded to explain to the golden flower that they were all just characters, brought into being by a powerful species he called “Creators”. He had been designed to help them create new worlds, and it was his job to look after these “alternate universes”. Ink was extremely forgetful and came off as a bit stupid, having to ask Flowey what he had just said in order to remember the topic he was explaining. “Anyway! The Creators help me with my soullessness, and I help them with creating. It’s really fun most times!” 

Flowey blinked, feeling like he was missing something. “Wait. These ‘Creators’... help you with your soullessness? What does that even mean?” 

Ink ran a hand over his vials, stopping on the yellow one before he removed it from his sash. He held it up for Flowey to see. “When they create new worlds, I find more of this paint left behind. The paint helps me feel emotions, just like any monster with a soul. Each color is a different emotion that the Creators felt when they made their new worlds, and I can feel that when I drink these.” 

Flowey had to admit, after listening to him talking, he had become extremely curious. If the paints worked on a soulless skeleton… would they work on him? “Could I... “ He hesitated. How could he trust Ink to be telling the truth? What if he was just trying to trick him? 

Ink leaned back, already guessing at what he was trying to ask. “You want to try some? I guess you could, I have plenty. Dunno if it’ll have any affect on you, since I was created to process the stuff, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.” He offered the yellow vial to the flower, his eyes blinked shut in delight. “I hope it works!” 

Flowey wrapped a vine around the vial, feeling nervous. He uncorked it and sniffed at the substance, finding that it smelled like generic paint. With a sigh, he glared at Ink and tipped it back, sipping the paint despite how stupid it made him feel. 

… 

It tasted metallic. He didn’t mind though, because, _for the briefest moment,_ he felt something stir inside his empty, nonexistent soul. It was just enough to make his eyes widen in surprise. He looked at Ink, expression filled with wonder. “I… I actually _felt_ something…!” He began to laugh, petals shaking from his crazed laughter. “I thought that I would never…!” 

Ink seemed pleased, taking the vial back and slipping it back into place on his sash. “That’s odd. It usually doesn’t work on other people. You’re sure it worked?” 

“I would know if I wasn’t feeling, idiot,” Flowey snapped, recovering from his moment of hysteria. “I haven’t felt real emotions in a long, _long_ time. Just coming that close to feeling was the closest I’ve been to my old self since before…” He stopped, not sure why it made him uncomfortable thinking of his past. 

Ink nodded, though. If he had seen as many worlds as he implied, he probably already knew everything there was to know about Flowey. “I get it. Really, it’s something that I wish others wouldn’t take for granted. They can be happy or sad, angry or afraid, without having to rely on an artificial palette of emotions. They have normal lives with normal souls.” He stared off at the forest, listening to the wind humming through the frigid air. 

Flowey turned, equally drawn to the quiet scenery. “No kidding. Papyrus has tried to give me advice on how to be better at expressing my emotions, but he doesn’t understand. It’s all just a show. I can’t feel anything real. I wish they knew how hard it is. I have even tried to make them understand, but I don’t think that they can.” He stared down at the ground, pushing the snow side to side with a prickly tendril. “It just stinks.” 

Ink suddenly stood up, smiling brightly. “I’m glad that we met. You’re the only one that understands how awful it is to not have a soul.” He stretched, reaching for his paintbrush. Once again, he smiled apologetically. “Look, I’ve got to go- the Creators are summoning me somewhere, and they get pretty impatient. But I’ll come back soon, okay?” To emphasize his point, he scratched a note onto the end of his ridiculously long scarf. “You’re a pretty interesting person, Flowey. Maybe I can help you with your emotions, too! Seeya around!” 

Before Flowey could argue, Ink dropped into a pool of Ink, vanishing as quickly as he had appeared. The golden flower stared into the blackness for a long while, his own reflection staring back with empty eyes. 

“I would like that,” He sighed at last, dipping his head in disappointment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! I love these two soulless idiots so much. Flowey is a character I'm surprised isn't given a lot of attention, especially with the similarities he has with Ink. I might write more adventures of theirs in the future. If you have any requests or suggestions for future stories, please let me know! Thank you, I hope your day is sunny and warm! <3


	5. (Errormare) Petition to Get Error Some Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare worries a lot for Error, and Error is tormented by the Creators' voices.
> 
> Warnings: Self-Loathing (Error... my child...), Implied Injury (Nightmare describing a not-fun experience he's gonna have to go through), Background Character Death (It's clean deaths though)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This story is a bit longer than the others, and the content is a little less light. (Considering its Nightmare and Error, I suppose it could be expected?) Error is not in a great place, obviously. Keep this in mind before reading! (He isn't s*icidal, but it may come off a bit like that. He is very depressed, though.)

Everyone had heard of the infamous Destroyer of Universes. Many cursed his name to the sky, or uttered his name when their world came crashing down around them. Nightmare, being proficient in terrorizing AUs and having visited quite a lot of them, had his attention drawn to this entity in such a way. Some blamed the Destroyer for their suffering, even when it was Nightmare’s doing. 

Nightmare had always found this behavior...well, he found it idiotic. To place the blame upon one who was not responsible for their suffering was despicable. It struck a sensitive nerve within the dark leader, although he wouldn’t admit the true reason for it. To his lessers, it simply seemed to be jealousy. “I am the one they should fear! They should curse _my_ name, not any other!” 

The first time the two had met, it was within a collapsing world. The AU was stubborn, persisting far longer than it should have. The souls of this AU were strong, and their negative emotions were highly attractive to the king of negativity. Nightmare had only wanted to pop into the dying world for a few moments- he hadn’t expected to be attacked so viciously and mercilessly from behind. 

Blue strings had fallen all around him, snagging all but one tentacle in one fell swoop. Effectively tangled and disabled, the leader whirled to face his attacker, more than a little frustrated at how embarrassingly close he was to being defeated. Before him stood a strange sight, indeed. It was a skeleton, or that was what they might have been once upon a time. This skeleton was black as coal- not goopy, like himself, but nearly as dark. Their body seemed to buzz and “glitch”, with random portions of their body blinking out of existence and reforming around them. What appeared to be visual errors floated all around them, accompanied by actual error warnings. The very same strings tied around his tentacles spilled from his angry red sockets, oddly reminding him of tears by the way that they formed. 

This entity, however, was not sorrowful over the situation, and certainly was not crying. An insane smirk paired with wide, mismatched eyelights betrayed his not-so-friendly intentions for the fly caught in his web. Nightmare could feel the pleased hatred oozing from the skeleton within his very core- and despite his anger at being caught, he smiled gleefully. Hatred was such a powerful emotion, it often went straight to his head. It was like a drug, if the drug in question made the user ten times stronger and a lot more aware. 

“W-hy are y-you smi-i-iling?” The glitch snarled, tugging rather rudely on his ensnared tentacles. Nightmare ducked to avoid a flame attack from a nearby monster, which was quickly dispatched by the flick of a deadly blue thread. “W-hat’s s-so fu-u-uny?” 

Nightmare, intelligent as he was, knew better than to provoke the mentally unstable skeleton. Instead, he hummed to himself and observed the strings pulled taut around him. “There is nothing funny about this whatsoever.” He was still smiling, though. That hatred was thick in the air, twisting around the battlefield much like the clouds of dust that darkened the sky. “My smile is born out of respect,” he admitted. “For your emotions, and for the destruction you have caused. It takes me at least an hour to cause this much despair, and yet… you created mass panic in less than five minutes.” Nightmare tipped his head in a slow nod of respect. “It’s impressive.” 

Error, for it was clear that this was the Destroyer that was so feared across the Multiverse, seemed to relax a bit. “Yo-ou’re that cree-epy sta-atic that’s-s been m-messing with the A-aUs.” 

“So you’ve heard of me?” Nightmare wasn’t really surprised, but it was good to know that he was becoming famous! “That’s… something. Tell me, is it a good thing or a bad thing, to become well known enough to catch the Destroyer of Universes’ attention?” 

Error scoffed, his strings loosening- only a little. “It’s a ba-ad thing, for s-s-sure.” With his free hand, he swung a few threads in an arch through the sky, slicing right through the coding of a nearby monster. They dusted almost instantly. “A-and if I were y-y-you? I wo-ould lay lo-o-ow for a while a-aft-er this,” he warned, eyes darkening. 

Nightmare shrugged, his free tentacle curling around his side carelessly. “I don’t intend to get in your way. I’m fact, your destruction of worlds is beneficial to me. I hope that I may be useful enough for you to keep around,” He chuckled, not at all unnerved that he was discussing his potential death. “After all, the Multiverse is not kind to the beings that they reject. Our kind is strongest together.” Subtle, he had to be subtle. 

Error, seeming irritated, withdrew his strings upon deeming Nightmare currently harmless. He squinted at the king of negativity, pondering something with the kind of venomous emotions that made Nightmare’s tentacles twirl in rancid delight. “W-whatev-ver.” With that, he tore a huge gash through the world. From it, coding began to split apart and tear to shreds, like the wool of a glove being unraveled. 

The goop lord was quick to escape, before he suffered the same fate as the dying AU. He thought upon his interaction with the Destroyer, finding his smile still spread across his face. Error didn’t say no. He didn’t _disagree_ with the idea of working together. That was a start, was it not? 

Pleased to have made such good progress in recruiting the most feared being in the Multiverse, Nightmare threw a feast for his followers. He hoped that, someday, he could be more than “creepy static” to Error. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

That was long ago. The two most feared beings in existence had come together more than once to aid each other’s cause, though Error was always hesitant. He didn’t trust Nightmare, nor the complexity of his plans. It didn’t really bother the king of negativity, though. Nightmare understood his reasons for being wary, seeing as he was _known_ for filling his plans and deals with infinite amounts of loopholes. He has snared a lot of people in those loopholes, causing a lot of misery in its wake. Error had every right to be cautious. 

But Nightmare didn’t plan on using Error for his benefit. Sure, he wanted to recruit him for a long time, and the Destroyer’s work aided in his plans. Nevertheless, Nightmare viewed him not as someone to control, but as someone to work alongside. He was an equal, who had earned every bit of Nightmare’s respect. 

It had, admittedly, been a long while since the gang leader had seen the glitch. He had decided to put his plans on hold until Error returned- for no reason other than respect, of course! But it was getting to the point where Dream (that traitorous sunny bastard) was breaking his progress and tilting the balance of the Multiverse more in his favor. 

Nightmare knew he couldn’t continue to sit idly while Dream took over, but… 

“Boss, you miss ‘im,” Cross leaned into his office, giving him a concerned gaze that almost came off like a glare. Had he forgotten to announce his presence, or had Nightmare been that lost in his thoughts? He dismissed the question and straightened in his chair, tentacles stiffening behind him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Cross,” he lied, voice firm and steely. His lesser gave a roll of his eyelights and walked in, a little more confident that he was not going to be skewered. 

“Yes you do.” Cross pulled forward the chair on the opposite side of the desk, placing his hands together on the desktop. “When have you ever stalled your mission for one of us? Your own subordinates? Error isn’t even within our ranks yet, and you would cancel all future advances to await his return- and you don’t need him. Not for success.” 

Nightmare scowled at him, a browbone quirked questioningly. “You imply that I need him for something else. What would that be?” 

Cross shrugged. “You tell me. I don’t know what runs within your mind. I only see what’s right in front of me- and it’s pretty clear that Error means _something_ to you.” 

“To care would be a weakness,” Nightmare rumbled, shifting his cyan gaze to the side. “And I am not weak.” 

The ex-royal guard leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head leisurely. “What about us? Do you not care about us?” He waved away Nightmare’s impending argument. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s ‘different’ with us. We’re just your followers… but if that were true, why are we still here? Why do you allow me to enter and speak to you like an equal? Didn’t you used to say that you would suffocate anyone who dared to disrespect you when we were first recruited? Does that still stand?” 

A low chuckle escaped the being of darkness. “It just might. You have come a long way since recruitment. I remember you were always so eager to please. Now, you hardly seem to care at all what I think of you. So tell me, Cross. If I did care about Error, what do you suppose I should do about it?” 

He didn’t expect an answer right away, and definitely not with the amount of certainty in Cross’ tone. “Go look for him.” Standing to his feet, the guard stepped as close as he dared to his irritable boss. “You aren’t going to be alright until he’s back, and your mission is going to fall to dust while you wait. Just… just find him.” Cross’ eyelights were dull- tired, even. “Believe it or not, we’re… concerned for you. And for Error. We’ll help how we can, boss, but our own search efforts have failed time and time again.” 

They had been searching for Error…? Nightmare sank into his chair, his anxiety and concern finally weighing him down. He had been lying to himself for awhile, trying to convince himself that he did _not_ care about Error. But… the two had laughed together, ranted about their enemies in quiet moments, and protected each other in battle. They were… almost like friends. Not that he nor Error would ever call each other friends. So perhaps… they were close allies? Nevertheless, Nightmare couldn’t ignore the fact that someone he trusted had been missing for longer than he could remember. 

_Someone he trusted_. When was the last time he could say he trusted someone? When was the last time he really cared? Did he truly care about his gang members…? Now confronted with the feelings he had been stifling and hiding deep within, Nightmare felt his exhaustion become ten times heavier. To care would be a weakness. His enemies could use the people he cared about against him. They could target those he cared about and make them suffer, blaming them for his own faults. The thought… it was very troubling, stirring a long-rooted rage within him. It wasn’t _just_. To harm someone who had done nothing but associate with someone, or something, considered to be evil- it’s just wrong. 

Nightmare massaged his brow with a free hand, concerns spiking higher as he thought of Error’s reputation. Error’s _enemies._ The glitch had so many odds stacked against him… _Stars, the fool needs to be more careful. He rushes in and out of worlds like he’s invincible._ In some ways, he was. But Nightmare knew better. He had a soul, just as any other monster does. Unlike Ink (the soulless bastard), Error was mortal. Killable. 

“Where have you looked?” The words barely registered as he spoke them, far away as he thought of the object of his concern. 

“Everywhere within a few hundred AUs of our location. Kills even got into the Doodlesphere- don’t ask me how, he wouldn’t say. There’s only one place we haven’t been, but it’s gonna be difficult to get there.” Cross stared down at him with an expression akin to sympathy. 

“The Antivoid,” Nightmare stated, his tentacles drooping around him. What not a lot of people knew was that Error hated the blank emptiness that most assumed to be his home. He wouldn’t go there unless he had to. Yet, it was the only location that few could enter- one had to have permission to enter, either by Error or by another glitch. And Error was one of the only glitches in the Multiverse… that had left the Antivoid, at least. 

“Can you go there?” Cross inquired. He was close enough that his whispering was heard, which was plenty close enough for Nightmare to spear him. Cross was smart- he knew that the king of negativity was much too tired to attack him without reason. 

“Error… gave me _some_ permission to enter,” Nightmare muttered, his forehead colliding with the desktop. He just wanted to sleep for a few decades… “I could get in, but I have to lock on to his negativity first. And doing that is going to be hell. Have you ever accidentally touched Error?” 

Cross hummed, then nodded. “Yeah, almost got shredded to dust for it.” 

“So you know that those glitches feel like being dipped in hot oil. I know you’re a creative person, Cross. I’m certain you would understand why I do not enjoy reaching out to negativity within the Antivoid.” Nightmare sighed, though his voice naturally released it as something closer to a snarl. “Imagine stepping through a wall of those glitches, only to be subjected to the full intensity of the void. To feel both deathly heat and suffocating cold, all at once. To feel the calcium of your bones turn to ash while your marrow freezes and expands, cracking your bones from within. Now imagine all of this, but with an extra layer of boiling slime encasing you. All of this is what I will experience _right here_ , in the safety of my office, for reaching out with my _aura_ to sense Error’s emotions.” 

Cross cringed, shaking his head. “That’s… not great. Are you sure that there’s no other way?” 

There wasn’t. “Not unless Error opened a portal for me, or offered full permission. I’ve tried getting in contact with him- I even tried to summon him with his strings. Calls immediately go to voicemail. Cross, I… he hasn’t even been stealing chocolate from Underfell.” Nightmare, in his misery, had begun kneading and clawing at his tentacles. Thin trails of slime stuck to his fingers before snapping back to the tendrils like rubber. “He eats that chocolate like he breathes air.” 

“Then go to him.” Cross bounced away when a tentacle stabbed at where he had been standing. “Hey, I know it’s gonna suck, but you’re going to keep worrying and wondering. You’re beating yourself up over this. Is that really better than momentary agony?” 

“Do you want to suffer as well?” Nightmare grumbled. “Or are you just plain stupid?” Yet… everything Cross has said so far was true. Nightmare was worried about Error- and it had reached the point where he refused to care for himself in favor of constantly monitoring the Multiverse. He set aside all his plans so he could keep a lookout for his ally. He hadn’t even looked after his idiot gang, like he usually did to keep them out of trouble. Killer had gone to the Doodlesphere, for crying out loud! 

“Gh, fine. Be sure that I am not disturbed.” Nightmare raised his head to fix his gaze on Cross. The guard nodded and turned to leave. “And Cross?” As he turned, Nightmare offered him a small smile. “Look after the other idiots for me while I’m gone.” Another stoic nod, and the guard was gone. 

Nightmare sighed, reaching out to their emotions with his aura. All four were safe in the castle, causing shenanigans as usual. He could tell by the mischief in their moods. _Maybe I am getting attached to them…_ And maybe that was alright. They were _his_ imbeciles. He couldn’t always be there to protect them, but… well, they were together. Error? He was alone in the Multiverse, with no one to help him when he was in need. Nightmare knew where he was needed the most. 

Allowing him one last moment in peace, he carefully stretched out the tendrils of his aura, reaching his subconscious connection into the strange location that he had long referred to as the “wall” or “limit”. It was the edge of the Antivoid- a location that existed everywhere and nowhere, which used to act as a boundary for his magic. Now that he knew he could push through it, though, it was just the border between existence and non-existence- in a sense. 

His aura prodded through the net, and then he began to scream. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

_Stars, I hope I never have to do that again,_ he thought hazily as his body began to formulate. He had no sense of time when seeking a trace of emotion in this hellish span of emptiness. It could have taken hours for him to latch onto the finest grain of despair- or it could have been seconds. Pain made things seem a lot lengthier in the moment. 

His awareness of his surroundings sharpened, and Nightmare wearily sat up. Blue strings were hanging from the white nothingness above, tangling and bunching together around random objects. _Error’s_ strings. He had been here a couple of times before, but he had never been so close to the location that Error spent his time at. There was nothing notable beyond the strings and their captive trinkets, until he turned to look behind himself. 

_Error…?_ Nightmare crept forward, his eye fixed on the strange, curled up being on the ground. It definitely was Error: signature glitches and error signs flickered around his being, contorting his form and distorting his voice. What… what was that noise he was making? It was like the static crackling of a radio, or a corrupted version of a cat’s purr. It was almost like he was practicing to become a white noise machine. 

“Err…? … Are you…do you need help…?” Nightmare circled around him until he could see his face, concern building in his chest. The glitch was wide awake, but he looked far away, like his mental state was trapped elsewhere. His eyes were clogged with glitches, but… it wasn’t a reboot. There was no loading sign above his head. 

“Hey, Error? Do you hear me?” He knelt down a respectable distance away, letting his tentacles curl low to the ground non-threateningly. “I’m here, alright? It’s Night. I’m not going to leave you.” Error twitched, but his gaze remained distant. Nightmare could sense so much turmoil within him- it was so overwhelmingly strong, he couldn’t make head nor tail of it. 

He could help Error through whatever it was he was facing- but he would have to maintain physical contact with him. That was something he didn’t feel comfortable with doing, at least not without consent. Even if Error was okay with it, Error had Haphephobia. He would be in phantom pain at the very least. Nightmare didn’t want to hurt him. 

“Error, you have to fight these emotions,” Nightmare whispered just loud enough for the other to hear. “They only serve to harm you. Please… be strong. I know you are. Fight it.” 

His words slowly sank into the glitch’s thick skull. One blink. Two. Error curled tighter, hiding his face in his arms. “Nnnn…” His voice cut off, then he tried again. “Nnnn….nniii….ghhht….hh…. _h-h-uurts._ ” 

“I know it hurts. May I help you…?” Nightmare peeked down at him, one of his tendrils snaking forward timidly. Error sniffled, raising his head just enough to stare back at the being of negativity. There were _real_ tears beneath the rims of his sockets, catching in the strings around his face like raindrops in a spiderweb. 

“H...hel-p…?” His eyes narrowed in distrust, a weak glare settling on the dangerous limbs behind the goop lord. “O-or har-m…?” 

Nightmare leaned back, exhaling slowly. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Err. Why would I harm you now, after all of the times I protected you in battle?” He paused, watching his ally tense up. “Look, you have reason to distrust me. I know I have never been trustworthy. But you and I are outcasts. If we didn’t look out for each other, no one would. Error, you have been here for a long time, and I doubt anyone has come looking for you. You would have been left here to rot.” Softening his tone, his gaze focused on the white, shadowless ground. “Worse yet, someone could have _come_. You and I? We have more enemies than we have cracks in our bones. S-someone could have come here to kill you. The Antivoid isn’t a safe place…” 

Error straightened a little, his gaze becoming a bit distant. “...I d-d-on’t be-elong an-n-nywhere els-s-e. I’m… I-I’m an abo-o-o-miation…” 

Nightmare scowled, remembering what Error had said about the Multiverse. “Everyone is an abomination,” he had said. “There is only one universe that is not, and that is the original universe. Everyone else deserves to die.” He seemed so certain that abominations deserve death, and now he was referring to himself as an abomination… “Error…? What happened? Why do you think you must stay here…?” 

Error tucked his chin into his jacket, his glitched form trembling. As though he had been struck, the glitch winced and curled his arms around his head. “N-n-no… n-no, ca-an’t...c-an-n’t…” 

“You can talk to me, idiot,” Nightmare sighed, settling more comfortably with his tentacles laid across his lap. “I’m not going to leave this place until you are ready to come with me.” 

Conflicted emotions grew stronger in the Destroyer’s aura, further disorienting Nightmare’s grasp of his state. “...v-voices... the-e-ey are an-n-ngry- I messed u-up… they w-wa-ant me to-o suf-f-fer…” 

“Well, I don’t.” Nightmare clenched his jaw, restraining his temper before he lashed out without reason. “ _Who_ are those voices? Who are they to try stealing my job?” 

Error chuckled, but it was broken and sad in a way that made Nightmare want to stab someone. “Dunno,” he wheezed. “J-j-ust voi-ces… The-y tr-tried to… told m-me to... “ His eyelights wavered, and he moved a hand from his head to swipe away a stray tear. “Told me t-to ki-i-ll you.” While Nightmare processed that information, the glitch furiously clawed at his own sleeve, pulling apart the cuff thread by thread. 

“When did they tell you to do that…?” He asked, resisting the urge to scoot closer. He wished his aura could absorb phobias. That would make this a lot easier. 

“A-fter we m-met… I i-i-ignor-red them. ‘S why-y I cra-ashed more of-ften. Th-they ca-a-an make gl-i0tches w0rse-” He coughed, glaring at the unwound thread as he focused on clearing the glitches that so evidently brought him pain. As he did so, Nightmare sorted through his surface-level emotions, hoping that he might learn something useful from them. Error had given him permission to monitor his emotions a long while ago, so long as he didn’t use any of his negativity for his own benefit. 

Now seemed like a good time to ask about this. “Error… whoever they are, the voices have no control over your emotions. You don’t have to feel however they want you to feel. So I’m asking you right now: do you want me to remove some of your negativity?” He tried not to look too hopeful. Nightmare knew that his ally was in an awful state of mind. There was a possibility that he would turn down the offer, believing that he deserved to suffer. But Error was also smart, at least when he wanted to be. “It may help clear your mind a little,” Nightmare continued, tilting his head to the side. 

Error’s gaze was distant again, but he spoke through it. “P-pl-ease. D-do it. B-be-fore I-I-I-” 

Nightmare was happy to oblige. He hated to trigger Error’s haphephobia, but he hated to see him suffer, too. Being as careful as he could, Nightmare only allowed the tip of his tentacle linger upon the glitch’s oddly frigid skull. Error hissed in pain, but he didn’t crash. _How is he so strong, even when he’s falling apart…?_ The negativity plaguing the Destroyer was so powerful, it made Nightmare dizzy with strength. He could probably conquer whole universes with the energy he had just received... 

As he drew his tentacle back, Error’s trembling stilled. He seemed a bit more relaxed now, and his emotions were easier to read. “Th-thanks. Feels better.” He sat up, rubbing at his eyes with a low snarl. “Sh-ouldn’t have cri-ied so much. Damned painful. Can-n’t see straight.” 

“And the voices?” Nightmare inquired, unable to restrain his extra limbs from swaying about. That was a _lot_ of power. It was enough to occupy a portion of his conscious focus, else he lose control of his tentacles. Now was definitely not the time to lash out and attack. 

“Gone, for n-now. You got ‘em to be qu-uiet. But they’r-re gonna be angry. Ni-ight… I don’t kn-know what to do.” Error was fighting to keep himself from clawing at his sleeve, instead kneading the stitches of his jacket. After a moment, he thought better of it and reached up to tug on the strings beneath his sockets. 

Nightmare thought begrudgingly of these “voices”, wondering why they haunted his ally. Were they in his subconsciousness, or were they actual beings? Could he kill them? If they were just figments of Error’s mind, then he probably couldn’t. But if they were real… “Come to Haventale. The gang and I will look out for you. Unless you do not want to- but you can’t stay here. No matter what you have been led to believe, this place is not where you belong.” Nightmare batted away one of his tentacles, irritated that they had seemed to develop a mind of their own. 

Error leaned away, grimacing. “That-t’d probably make th-ings worse. Th-ey…” 

“You’re the _Destroyer of Universes._ No one controls you. _No one.”_ Nightmare stood, stepping back to ensure that he did not accidentally strike Error. “Shade be damned if I let _anyone_ tell you how to live. I will shred this Multiverse to strips to find those cowards, and they _will suffer for what they have done to you._ ” 

“You… you think tha-at they’re real…?” Error whispered, watching warily as the king’s dark tendrils ripped through strings and sliced at trinkets. 

“I only care for possibilities. They might be real, and that’s all the reason I need to turn this Multiverse upside-down looking for them,” Nightmare rumbled, forcing his tentacles to still. “Your suffering is _real,_ isn’t it? Your abuse is real. They’re… they’re forcing you to listen to them. They are forcing you to accept the pain that they inflict. Your mind is twisted, but it wouldn’t do that to you. You _hate_ reboots. It’s one of your primary fears.” Nightmare fixed his cyan glare on the Destroyer, forcing them to stare each other down. “Why would you force that upon yourself?” 

After a moment of tense silence, Error stared down at his lap. “I wouldn’t.” 

“Exactly.” Nightmare paused, joining the glitch on the ground again. He really didn’t want to push him right now, but… “Look, we can worry about this later, okay? You need rest. When’s the last time you got even an hour of sleep?” 

“Does… does being knocked unconscious count…?” Error smiled weakly, reaching up to rub at his right eye socket. It was the eye that gave him the most trouble when it came to vision, Nightmare remembered. 

“No, you moron. Would inhaling water count as breathing?” Nightmare shook his head, exasperated. He wasn’t exactly the best at self care either, but this was ridiculous. “Will you come to Haventale? Or is there someplace you would feel more comfortable at?” 

Error shrugged, dragging a large blue blanket out of a summoned portal. He wrapped it around himself until there was no portion of his form visible from the chin down. To Nightmare’s surprise, the glitch shuffled onto his lap, seeming to sink into his warmth. He hurried to adjust himself around Error, not wanting to accidentally trigger his haphephobia. “I don’t c-care where we go, ju-ust don’t leave me.” 

Setting aside any of his previous worries, Nightmare allowed himself this rare moment. He wanted to feel this weakness. Wanted to be weak, if it was for the strongest monster he had ever met. “...Let’s get out of here,” he whispered, his tentacles curling protectively around the Destroyer as he lifted him into his arms. Error did nothing more than grumble something that sounded like, “Big soft octopus.” 

Nightmare opened a portal back to Haventale (exiting the Antivoid was always a _lot_ easier than entering), directly into his office. Error’s breathing slowed, and he nuzzled into the blanket against Nightmare’s chest. The king of negativity opened the door with a free limb, peeking out to ensure that there was no one in the dark halls. He didn’t need one of his stupid /children/ subordinates causing him any trouble- or making Error any more uncomfortable than he already was. 

Opening the door to the closest guest room to his own bedroom, Nightmare moved to the side of the bed and pulled back the pale violet blankets. He nestled the bundled-up Destroyer against the pillows, carefully tugging the blankets back over him. He was asleep. _He looks so peaceful asleep…_ Most people did, Nightmare had found, but it was a strange sight upon the most hostile being in the Multiverse. When he was unconscious, he still looked angry. Like he wanted to murder whoever had done such a thing to him. But peaceful? That was something that was never seen upon the Destroyer’s face. 

“Sleep well, Err,” Nightmare murmured, settling on the floor beside the bed. He couldn’t leave. No, he would remain here, fending off the negativity and darkness that he had adopted as his own trait, for the only person he would allow himself to care for. He would be strong later. Right now? He just wanted to sink in sweet, weakening relief. His glitch was safe. Error was home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!! Kudos to Cross for convincing Night to look for sad glitchy man. And for looking after the gang (he's obviously the one that kept them from burning down the castle while Nightmare was away). If you have any feedback or requests, let me know! Thank you, and remember to stay hydrated!


	6. (Cream) Dream = Disney Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream does some bird watching and Cross almost has a mental breakdown.
> 
> Warnings: Cross has a few boo-boos, Physcological Manipulation (Nightmare is a big meanie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Please forgive me for my tendency to fixate on seemingly pointless details (I am apologizing in advance because, for whatever reason, I wrote several paragraphs analyzing birds XD). I hope you enjoy the story!

It was a quiet, sunny day in Underswap, which was supposed to be impossible underground- but at this point, there was really no questioning the logic of the AUs. The change in weather was pleasant; snow was nice, but nothing was better than the warmth of sunlight seeping into one’s bones! Dream had escaped into the forest while his friend was distracted looking after Papyrus. Blue meant well, but there were times when his energy was hard to take in. _So much positivity…_ Yes, it was true that he benefited from high levels of positivity, but it… well, it went to his head fast. Blue’s, in particular, was similar to being sugar high. Sometimes, he just needed to get away and relax, else he spend all of his energy without even realizing. 

He had counted exactly five robins in the trees since he had left, two bright red cardinals- he was pretty sure they were a couple- and one lone crow that had been watching him since he sat down. It had bright, intelligent eyes that seemed to peer right through him. Perhaps sensing the cake in his inventory, the bird skipped closer, leaving little forked prints in the wet snow. 

Dream chuckled and retrieved the cake, breaking off a small piece for it. “Here you go. I’m not sure if crows like cake, but I hope you enjoy it.” The crow eyed him warily, but it seemed that hunger was a stronger drive than fear. It hopped forward, snatched the chunk of cake, then flapped a few feet away to poke at it curiously. _Blue would have accidentally scared it away, and Ink…_ “Heh…” Ink would have tried to catch it. Dream certainly had interesting friends. Though, as he thought, his mind wandered elsewhere. 

_...Cross wouldn’t have scared it away._ Dream thought with a smile of how gentle Cross was, especially with small creatures. It was entirely possible that he would have befriended the crow. The image of Cross’ soft laughter, sitting in the snow with a crow perched on his shoulder… it filled Dream with bubbles of warmth. Stars, he loved to hear him laugh. It was rare to see him smile, let alone laugh. But every long, painful fight was worth enduring, just knowing that he might have a chance to hear that muted laughter soon after. Cross was always quick to check on him- to make sure he wasn’t hurt too badly after fights. It was sweet. 

He turned his attention from the crow to the trees above, watching the cardinals hop through the pine boughs and duck through the needles. One would prod through the branches first, and it seemed to hold them up for the other. It was such a polite gesture, especially coming from two birds. He supposed that the first didn’t have to hold the branches back for the second, but it did anyways. Dream wondered what the first got from this little gesture of kindness. They would both forget soon after, because not all birds have long-term memory. So why hold the branches back? The second bird could get through on its own. It was more than capable. That said… what if it didn’t? What if it was held back, and it lost the other in the dense nettles? No matter how long it searched, no matter how far it pursued its lost mate, it may never reach them. 

Maybe the first one knew that. Maybe that was why it slowed down and helped the other. It didn’t want to lose its mate by accident. It always came back, just to hold those branches, just to ensure that they were still together. 

Dream smiled, tossing another piece of cake to the expectant crow. This time, it bravely puffed up its feathers in warning while it ate the cake where it had fallen. That it trusted him at all was adorable. He wondered how close he could get it to come before it flew away. Soon enough, he found that it would come within a foot or so from him- just out of his reach. That was alright, though. He wasn’t Ink. He didn’t intend on catching it. Although it was just a crow, he enjoyed its presence more than anything. 

Rather suddenly, the crow squawked and flew into the trees, dipping into the darkness and out of his sight. Dream watched it go, staring down at the cake in his hand in confusion. _What did I do to scare it away…?_ Not long after being abandoned by the crow, he felt a subtle shift in his aura. Why was he detecting negativity? Sitting up in alarm, he looked around for its source. 

He was about to summon his bow when he finally caught sight of the source of negativity. A crushing weight of relief washed over him. _Cross_. The knight was plodding through the snow in the stretch of trees to his right, his weapon drawn and clutched in a tight hold. _...Why is his weapon drawn…?_ Dream shifted to his feet, fingers twitching with an anxious itch to summon his own weapon. _No. Cross is friendly._ It was just the low tones of negativity setting his nerves on edge. 

“...Cross?” Dream called, just loud enough to be heard but not enough for his voice to echo through the snowy woods. He settled with holding his arm back to calm his magic- he really didn’t want to accidentally summon a weapon just because of a little negativity. Especially not because of Cross’ negativity. 

The knight stopped and turned to face him, though it was hard to see his expression under all of that fluff. Why was his hood up…? “Dream…?” 

Now that he was standing, he could almost understand what he was sensing. Fear. Why was Cross so afraid? Was he afraid of Dream…? Or… _for_ him? Dream didn’t move any closer, as much as he wanted to. He didn’t want to upset Cross any more than he already was. “Um… is something wrong…? I mean, I’m happy to see you, but…” He had told Dream that Nightmare had some important missions or something, and that he wasn’t going to be able to slip away for awhile. Did that change? If so, wouldn’t Cross be happier? 

“...What did we do for Blue’s birthday.” Cross stopped a couple of yards from him, his hands trembling. Dream was uncertain how he could be so stressed out and still keep a firm hold on his knife. 

“...What…? Cross…” Dream hesitated, then tried to smile, even though he was becoming increasingly worried. “We brought him and Papyrus to Candytale for the day. Papyrus tried to steal the honey-flavored hard candies. Blue got a sugar rush and we lost him in the gingerbread maze. We found him in Underfell- Red looked so mad… And I’m pretty sure you were eating all of the Hershey’s Kisses that you could find.” It was a great day, aside from the near-panic attack of losing Blue. 

For a moment, Cross seemed to relax, but then his walls went right back up. He lowered his knife just a little bit, though his shoulders were still tensed up. “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes.” Dream responded almost immediately, and without a single doubt in his head. He trusted Cross entirely. 

“Come here then.” 

A flicker of uncertainty ran through him. “Cross… please let me help.” He took a step closer, but it was timid and slow. “I know you’re afraid, but I don’t know why. And… if you don’t want me to know, that’s okay. But please… don’t…” Dream took another step closer, casting away his anxiety for a moment. “Don’t hold it in. We can go get tacos instead… Just… please don’t hold in the negativity.” Maybe he was hypocritical for saying such a thing, but this was Cross. Cross mattered so much more to him than his own health. 

He had walked as close as he could to Cross without walking right into his knife. They were close enough for Dream to reach out and hug him, but he didn’t. He knew that Cross needed to act first. He had to overcome whatever fear was haunting him, even if it hurt Dream to let such an emotion fester within him. _I could just use my aura. I could just make him happy._ But that wasn’t fair to Cross. That was depriving him of whatever closure he sought. 

Cross stepped in front of him and peered down at him, nothing but his eyelights visible upon his face. He gently tilted Dream’s chin up so they were staring each other in the eyes, causing an avalanche of emotions to rush through Dream’s soul. “Do you trust me…?” 

Why did it sound like he was pleading for something else? Some alternate response? Dream softened, though he was still extremely concerned. “No, I don’t just trust you. I love you, Cross.” He leaned forward and kissed his cheek, unable to resist his instincts to comfort him any longer. Though he did manage to hold back a bit. 

Cross froze, his eyes widening, and then he desummoned his knife so he could practically strangle Dream in a warm, fluffy hug. “It’s you…” 

“Of course it’s me, Cross…” Dream’s voice was muffled from having his face mushed into his jacket. It smelled so distinctly of Cross, it made him want to melt into it and never leave. “I’m sorry if it seemed like it wasn’t…” 

Cross was stroking his head softly, tears rolling down his cheeks. “No, it’s not your fault. I- I’m sorry that I worried you. I was just afraid…” He pulled back a little so he could look down at Dream’s face. “I was afraid that _you_ wouldn’t be here.” 

Dream freed one of his arms so he could tug Cross’ hood down (not seeing his face was causing some unnecessary anxiety within the guardian). His relieved smile quickly melted into a concerned frown. “Are you hurt?” 

Cross looked away, though he didn’t let go of Dream. “No…” 

“Then why are there bruises all over your face?” Dream gently turned his head back around so he could look more carefully over the wounds. It wasn’t just bruises- upon closer inspection, there were fine cracks around his eyes, which ran around the sides of his skull and, assumingly, to the back of his skull. He wiped away the tears that had gathered beneath Cross’ eyes, his soul aching at seeing him injured. 

“It’s nothing,” Cross assured him, a small, broken smile winding across his face. 

That was a lie. Dream could tell by all of the strange negativity bundled within him that it was definitely something. “Cross…” Was asking what happened too insensitive? He frowned, then shook his head. “I’m… just glad you’re okay. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s alright… but can I at least heal you?” 

The knight nodded and backed up a little, rubbing at a dark bruise on his head. “That’s fine.” They both sat in the snow, enough space between them to be comfortable, but still close enough to feel each other’s warmth. Dream carefully removed one of his gloves, a brilliant gold glow slowly growing between his fingers. He blinked his eyes shut momentarily (it often required much more focus to alter his aura’s magic to healing magic). When he opened them again, he was pleased to see that the yellow glow had brightened to a pale green. It wasn’t perfect, but he was still learning how healing magic worked. 

“Would you like some cake…?” Dream asked, tracing the cracks and dark splotches on Cross’ face. Beneath the green light, he could see the injuries slowly fading away. “Papyrus bought some at Muffet’s bakery earlier today, so I brought some with me out here.” It wasn’t chocolate, but Cross seemed to enjoy most sweet treats- even if chocolate was his favorite. 

Cross smiled, rubbing his arms awkwardly. “Ah, no thanks. I ate a ton of chocolate bars to…” He trailed off, but Dream tensed at the words he _knew_ Cross was leaving out. _He ate chocolate bars to recover HP. Oh Cross… what happened to you?_

“Alright, if you’re sure.” It was best if he dropped it. He wanted Cross to talk to him about it, but not until he was comfortable. Removing his hand, he carefully looked over Cross’ face for any other cracks and bruises he may have missed. There were still some traces of purple across his face, but it was pretty decent work, considering Dream was still a terrible healer. “There. Almost back to normal.” Dream smiled, moving to slip his glove back over his fingers. 

Cross stopped him, his hand settling over Dream’s uncovered hand. “Dream… thank you. I… I sort of owe you an explanation, don’t I?” 

Not really. Dream was more than willing to forget about it if Cross wanted for him to. He wouldn’t forget it, but he just wanted for Cross to be happy. “If you want to explain, I’ll listen,” Dream assured him, crossing his legs and propping his head up with his hand. 

Cross glanced around nervously, then settled back with a sigh. “The others found out about our… _meetings_. They told Nightmare about it.” He cringed, a hand reaching up to linger against his neck. “Nightmare… didn’t take it well. Or maybe he took it _too_ well.” 

That explained Cross’ behavior almost immediately. Dream felt chills cut through his soul at this information, realizing how _bad_ this could have gone. How bad things could still be. “My brother knows about us now…?” 

“Yeah…” Cross murmured, his gaze flicking down to their hands. “He… he told me how great it was. That you were close to someone that was _his_. Dream, he… he wanted me to bring you to Haventale. To the castle.” His emotions darkened, seemingly boiling within his soil as he tried to keep the negativity from slipping past his walls. 

Dream’s fingers twitched, needing to reach out and tug those negative emotions away. To replace it with comfort and joy. _I should have known this would happen… I’m so sorry, Cross…_

“I told him no,” Cross laughed bitterly, his gaze hardening. “Told him I wouldn’t betray your trust like that. It was stupid, I know, but I was so tired of jumping through hoops for him. I guess I got to a breaking point.” He rubbed circles over Dream’s hand, seeming entranced by the slight movement. “Didn’t blow over well, as you could see.” 

The guardian hummed to himself, noting that the wounds weren’t as bad as they could have been. If Nightmare was angry, he would have broken bones. If he was _really_ angry though… He would do so much more than physically wound the offender. He would make them suffer. Dream had seen it happen far too often. He could heal broken bones and he could help rebuild destroyed homes, but the soul and its emotions were much more delicate. Once shattered, there were very few ways to repair them. 

“He… I guess it was implied, but I know when he’s threatening someone. He threatened to hurt you. To… I don't know, pretend to be you? I don’t know. He told me that it would be really easy for him, since he knew you better than anyone else in the multiverse…” Cross looked up at him, as though needing a reminder that Dream was, in fact, still here, and that he couldn’t possibly be a shapeshifting shade. There were tears in his eyes again, though he was trying to hold them back. “I… I guess I panicked. It probably wasn’t smart, but you _know_ how he is… He could have been telling the truth. He _was_. H-he was going to _make you disappear_ and replace you.” 

Dream let those words sink in, feeling that he wasn’t sure what to make of it. Nightmare couldn’t kill him, that much he was pretty sure of. Or, he couldn’t kill him without some serious backup, and a whole lot of negativity. Still, there were probably a lot of other ways to get rid of somebody. His soul twisted painfully as he remembered just how afraid Cross had been when he showed up in Underswap. He was so afraid that he couldn’t even hold it back behind his emotionless walls. Cross genuinely believed Nightmare had taken his form. That explained the questions, too. 

He leaned forward to pull Cross into a hug, pressing his face into Cross’ neck. _I won’t ever let that happen. I won’t let Nightmare hurt you like that._ For a moment, they clung to each other in silence, listening to their breathing and the rustling of the trees around them. Finally, Dream raised his voice to a low whisper. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, alright? Nightmare is just trying to get in your head. And even if he was serious, his plan didn’t work.” 

Cross tightened the hug a little, then softened into Dream’s hold. “Right. You’re right.” Although he could still sense doubt, Dream was happy that Cross was calming down. And maybe a little doubt was healthy. He really could have been mimicked- Nightmare was far from lying about knowing him well. The possibility made him queasy. He didn’t like to think of what would have happened if Nightmare really did pretend to be him. _And he could still show up pretending to be me. He could be doing that anywhere, anytime._ It was really troubling. 

“Do you want to stay at Blue’s while we figure out how to approach this…?” Dream asked, hoping to distract himself from the mess of worry that this was developing within him. 

“Would Blue be alright with that?” Cross asked, his tone just a bit hopeful. He was trying to sound neutral, but Dream could read his voice just as easily as he could sense his emotions. 

“Well, Papyrus might argue about it because you seem to have pissed off my brother, but Blue will probably find a way to smooth things out with him,” Dream sighed, nuzzling his face into the fluff of Cross’ hood. “Blue is always trying to find ways for us to spend more time together. He’s going to love having you around.” Blue had a thing for matchmaking. He tried to be subtle about it, but Dream noticed how excited he got when Cross was spending time with the guardian of positivity. He was the same way with practically every other couple he had met- or had brought together. 

Cross hesitated, then whispered, “Thank you, Dream… I love you, too.” 

That… was the first time he ever said it back. And after he said it once, Cross made sure to insert those words into every conversation that they had. 

Cross loved him. 

And Dream, without needing to force his own positivity, without needing to pretend or lie to himself, loved Cross back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!!! If you have any feedback, constructive critisism, or just want to scream at me in the comments, go ahead! ^^ Have a great day, lovelies!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!!!!! Please do leave a comment of what you think, or if you have any suggestions! I'm also open to any requests that you may have, though it may take me some time to write something up for it. Have a lovely day, you beautiful stars! <3


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